Becoming We Three
by everdancer
Summary: She had no place to call home, nothing to call her own except the contents of her car. During and post-Sectionals. Multi-Chapter. T for possible future language. Hints at Quick.
1. Prologue

I only own _Glee_ in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

**Prologue**

The night after everything blew up, Quinn came home late.

Mrs. Hudson had given her the key the morning after she had moved in, but this was the first time that she had used it.

She waited until all of the lights were out for a good half an hour before she pushed the key in. The click sounded like a bullhorn, and she wondered how she hadn't woken Finn or his mother. She half expected them to come charging at her, to tell her that she was no longer welcome in their home.

Trying to keep her breathing even, she tiptoed up to Finn's room for her teddy bear and pajamas. She found her things, which before had been just as much a part of their household's as Finn's, neatly packed and piled in a dark corner, her teddy on top.

Quinn hurried to the down stairs bathroom, forgoing a shower in fear that it would make too much noise. She felt guilty as Finn's heavy sweatpants settled under her stomach, his oversized shirt pulling tight across her midsection. She would need to find new pajamas tomorrow.

Sleep did not come easy to Quinn that night. In her waking hours the tossed and turned, unable to find a comfortable position to ease her aching back. When she did fall into a fitful sleep, it was to find shadowy nightmares of Finn hitting her, telling her that she was a worthless liar as she shriveled on the ground as the bloody remains of the baby pooled at her feet.

Around seven, bright sunlight streamed into the Hudson's living room, and she gave up entirely. Instead, she moved her three bags into her car, scribbled a quick but heartfelt thank-you on the refrigerator whiteboard, and drove away. Far away.

She didn't know where she wanted to go, all she knew was that it wasn't here.

**A/N:** so I don't really like this, but it needs to be said to start off the story. I kind of have a story plan – either this will be a short-ish story with (possibly/most likely) a similar-length sequel, or a slightly longer story with a couple months time gap. What do you think? Hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Reality

I only own _Glee_ in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

**One. **_Reality_

The reality of her situation hit Quinn as she left the diner where she'd eaten breakfast.

As she walked out, towards her car, she passed by a lonely looking man, thin, wearing a thick but tattered jacket. He looked - and smelled - like he hadn't shaved, showered, or eaten a good meal in at least a week. Her initial reaction was to look down on him in pity, throwing a couple of dollars into the hat that lay, overturned, at his feet. But as her thoughts turned to how awful it would be to be homeless, like this man, she realized that she was. Her parents had kicked her out, her boyfriend had rightfully broken up with her, and in that action kicked her out as well. She had no place to call home, nothing to call her own except the contents of her car.

Her chest constricted in this sudden realization, pressure building behind the dams of her eyes. She hurried to her car, reaching it just before the water works took over.

She didn't know how long she sat there in the front seat, holding herself and crying until her cheeks were covered in tears. She probably would have stayed there a lot longer if she hadn't heard her cell phone going off. She flipped it up, struggling to read the new text through her tears. It was Rachel, asking where she was. The bus for Sectionals was supposed to leave in five minutes.

Quinn wiped back her tears. She could cry later. Right now, her team needed her. She loved that feeling - being needed. It meant that she was important, that if something would happen to her, she would be missed.

She arrived a couple of minutes late, hurrying onto the bus as they maneuvered Arty into the lift.

There were ten seats. Enough for almost everyone to have their own. Quinn stood at the front for a moment, scouted out her options. Santana and Brittany were together, switching gossip as they shared an iPod. Jacob, she knew, would at least try to sit with Rachel, although he might not be successful. Puck was sitting moodily in a dark corner of the bus, as if daring her to come back there. She wouldn't.

Finally, she took the only open seat in the front, away from everybody else.

A moment later Ms. Pillsbury boarded the bus, surveying the seats for an open one. There weren't any, Quinn had taken the last one. Her eyes lighting on the young girl, and Emma quickly sat beside her – a little to eagerly, in Quinn's opinion. Ms. Pillsbury would probably try to physco-analyze her pretty soon. _Just what I need right now_ she thought, biting back the tears she had been fighting ever since she'd gotten Rachel's text. She couldn't cry now. She couldn't be vulnerable in front of Puck.

Ms. Pillsbury called role – was it really that hard to just head-check all twelve of them? – before sitting back in the seat, telling the driver that we were all ready to go.

"Are you excited?" she asked Quinn. _Did she look excited? _Quinn had her elbow nudged onto the thin window ledge, her left hand around her neck and her forehead against the cool glass. Her right hand rested uneasily atop her bump, rubbing it in worried circles. She shrugged at Ms. Pillsbury's words, not wanting to look up and give her a real answer. But the moment she lifted her shoulders, she regretted it. Ms. Pillsbury was just trying to be kind, after all.

"Are you alright, Quinn?" she asked, an edge of concern in her voice.

Quinn felt the tears pressing against her eyes, the lump rise in her throat. She gave her head a simple shake. No. No, she wasn't alright.

A tear fell. Then another. She blinked them away. Not here. Not now.

She felt a soft hand on the back of her shoulder, Emma's words falling onto her, another pressure to cry.

"What's wrong?"

She swallowed back the tears.

"Quinn?"

She turned her head to see Ms. Pillsbury watching her, her big eyes round with concern for her young pupil.

"I can't do this."

There. She said it. It was out there. Out in the world and there was nothing that she could do to get it back.

"It'll be okay."Ms. Pillsbury assured her. "Sure you're down a member, but you guys are so great, I'm sure you'll win."

"I didn't mean the competition." Quinn murmured, so softly she didn't think that the guidance counselor would hear her.

"Is It . . ."

" . . . the baby." Quinn finished, nodding. Somewhere in there short conversation she had stopped leaning on the window sill, and was now facing Ms. Pillsbury, longing to fall into her arms and just cry, like she would do with her own mother. But Ms. Pillsbury wasn't her mom or a friend's mom. She was a teacher. Someone that Quinn didn't know well at all.

"You're planning on giving her up for adoption, correct?"

"I had been." She qualified, a few tears slipping out. "N-now, I don't know. Puck doesn't want to give her up, and I thought we m-might have a shot at it, but then he went and t-texted Santana and stuff and he can't be t-trusted. But th-then I found out that Mr. Sh-shuester found out, so that fell through and I don't think I c-can't give her away to just anyb-body. But I don't h-have a place to l-live and I can't rai-raise a baby that way. I don't even have enough money for doc-t-tor's visits so I might ha-have to give b-birth on my own or something j-just to save money, and it's j-just too h-hard and I want it all to g-go away." She knew that she sounded crazy, leaking her private fears between sobs, the words becoming more and more indistinguishable until she could no longer speak. Crying took over, her arms wrapped around her as she shook, falling into Ms. Pillbury's open arms.

"Shhh," the counselor whispered, stroking back Quinn's hair. "Oh Quinn," she sighed, "you should have told me sooner! This is exactly what I'm here to help with." Okay, that was a bit of stretch. Normally she dealt with popularity issues and college worries, but her job was to help the students, and Quinn, at least for now, was a student

Ms. Pillsbury listened to her student sob for a moment. She had to do something about this. She hated crying. Crying meant tears, and snot, and puffy eyes, and running makeup. In short: another mess. So she did what she did best, organize and prioritize.

"Well, the first thing you need is a place to live, isn't it?" she asked, more to herself than to the still sobbing teenager. "Do you think you could find a friend's house, just for a night or two?"

Brittany's parents might let her stay with them – they had had Brittany when they were only twenty, so they might sympathize with her. Quinn was also sure that if she asked, Rachel would be more than willing to take her in for a night or two. But that was if worst came to worst. Rachel was nice and Quinn wanted to be friends, but she also knew that Rachel wanted Finn, and that was too sore a wound to open up so soon.

She nodded at Ms. Pillsbury to continue.

"Well then, I'll check around, see if there are some local organization that help girls in your situation and tell you on Monday."She looked over at Quinn, but the girl didn't seem all that reassured as she sniffled. "There's bound to be something, Quinn. You aren't the first pregnant teenager in Lima and you're not going to be the last, either." She still didn't look all that heartened, so Ms. Pillsbury decided to tackle another problem. "You know, I think there's a home for teenage mothers nearby. You can probably stay with them, and even if you choose not to I'm sure that they'll have the resources to help you make all of these decisions and deal with your debts, Quinn."

"They will?" Her voice was soft and scratchy from her crying. But there was hope there. Feeble and fleeting, but hope all the same.

"I'm sure that they can help you." Ms. Pillsbury repeated, glad that the girl had stopped crying, at least for the moment. She pulled out a package of tissues and handed them to Quinn so that she could dry her tears.

Quinn dabbed at her eyes, the warm feeling of hope filling her chest. Maybe this would all be okay.

**A/N:** A little bit of hope at the end. Ain't it sweet? You know what's also sweet? Reviews! Oh, and I've decided that this will be four to six chapter with no planned sequel. And it's SNOWING here! More than a foot and no sign of stopping which happens maybe once a decade here (Northern VA)! Yay! More time to write!


	3. The First Step

I only own _Glee_ in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

**Two. **_The First Step_

It was dark by the time they all arrived back at McKinley High School. Emma had left for her wedding after their last performance, hinting that they had rented the bus for the entire day.

Mercedes had directed the driver to a local roller rink and arcade where Kurt kindly paid for all of their tickets and they had thrown their own celebration.

As she stood to leave, Quinn quickly regretted her roller skating adventure. Besides the fact that it had been far too dangerous (although she had kept at least one steady hand on the side of the rink at all times), she would have sworn that her feet had been cooked over a hot stove, they were so sore and tender.

She dawdled by the bus doors, watching everyone greet their parents. Rachel was lifted off her feet by the force of her father's hug. Kurt and his dad exchanged a more hesitant but just as loving hug as Mercedes high-fived her little sister. Everyone was happy with what they had accomplished.

As people began to leave she kept her eye on the Morris's, waiting until they were about to leave before gathering her courage.

"Mr. Morris," she called. The blond man quickly turned his head in Quinn's direction.

"Yes, Quinn?" he asked. The first adult in months that immediately acknowledged her rather than the belly that her hands were folded on top of.

"C-could I stay with you for a while?" her voice was sad and quiet, hesitant.

"Did your parents kick you out?" He asked sympathetically, and Quinn nodded.

"C'mere," he ordered, extending his arm and giving her a sad smile. She let him pull her in, holding her tight for a moment. "Of course you can stay with us, Sweetie. You know we consider you a part of the family."

Quinn smiled. After being rejected so many times in the past couple of weeks, it was nice to be accepted.

--

"What?" Quinn asked, annoyed with her friend's staring. Brittany had been watching her all through breakfast and she was starting to get paranoid. Was her bedhead really all that bad? Did she have something in her teeth?

"Aren't you supposed to be puking or something?" Brittany asked, her gaze uninterrupted.

"What?"

"Isn't it like . . . morning sickness or something?" Brittany asked, her face screwing up in concentration.

"That's only in the first trimester, darling." Mrs. Morris told her, setting more pancakes in front of the girls.

Quinn nodded in agreement. "I'm almost in the third now."

"Third of how many?" Quinn mentally rolled her eyes at her friend's stupidity. Brittany was sweet, and a great performer, but she could be so stupid.

"Third of three." She told her.

"Doesn't that mean your going to have it, like, soon?"

"Three and a half more months." Quinn corrected, twirling her fork in the syrup lake on her plate. Three more months until she had to make the toughest decision of her life. Until, if she did decide to keep the baby, she would have to find somewhere else to live. Of course, the Morris's would never kick her out, but she didn't want to put the stress and long nights that newborns brought onto them. Not when they were being so generous.

"Do you wanna watch a movie?" Brittany asked, completely out of the blue.

"Sure."

--

So they spent the entire day in front of the television, talking and munching on candy as they worked through Brittany's collection of Amanda Bynes movies before moving on to Lindsay Lohan.

Halfway through _Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen_ Quinn's phone began to buzz. Seeing that it was a number she didn't recognize, Quinn almost decided to ignore it. But one accusing look from Brittany forced her to flip open the phone.

"Hello?" she asked as her friend paused the movie.

"Hello," greeted a familiar, perky voice. "This is Ms. Pillsbury, is this Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes."

"Hi," Ms. Pillsbury's stiff phone persona quickly disintegrated once she realized that she had finally gotten the correct number instead of the Rejection Hotline number Mark Rutherford had originally fed her. "I wanted to tell you that I did some research, and the closest home might have an open room in a little over a month. Somehow, they convinced me to visit after school on Monday, so I wanted to invite you to come with me."

"That sounds great, Ms. Pillsbury." Quinn replied, trying not to let her sudden nerves get the best of her. Visiting would mean it was an actual possibility. It would mean that this was actually happening to her.

"So, if you'll just come down to my office right after school I can drive you over." The counselor offered, not noticing her student's change in tone.

"Thanks Ms. Pillsbury."

"Bye, Quinn." She meant to say goodbye before clicking off the phone, but she couldn't control her voice well enough to get the words out. She put the little device back on to the coffee table as Brittany started the movie up again. Quinn brushed away her tears, for once glad that Brittany was dumb enough not to notice her tears.

--

"Hey Quinn, you've got an e-mail." Brittany announced as the credits rolled forty minutes later.

"How did you get on my e-mail?" Quinn asked accusingly as her friend brought the laptop over to her, kneeling beside Quinn.

"You didn't log out." Brittany explained, pulling up the page.

_**Important!**_

_From: "Rachel Berry" _

_To: "Quinn Fabray" _

_Quinn,_

_It is essential that you view the entirety of the attached video._

_-Rachel Berry_

Quinn clicked on the attached file, opening it until it fit the entire screen. At first all she could see was a nose until Rachel backed away, trying to convince someone off camera to sit down in front of it. Finally, she stepped behind the lens and swung it to face –Quinn gasped- Puck. Puck, looking serious and sober for the first time in his life.

"Go on," Rachel coaxed.

Quinn's breath caught. What was he going to say? Her instinct was to shut it down. She didn't want to hear whatever he had to say. It could only hurt her, and why cause herself more pain? It took all of her willpower to keep the video up as Puck gathered his words.

"So, uh. Hi. Quinn. Look, this is really awkward but I just – I wanted you to know that I'm trying." Suddenly, his eyes took on a fierce determination and he seemed more confident. "Damn it, I'm doing the best I can, because I want to be someone our daughter can be proud of. I haven't had sex in two months – you can ask Santana or any of the other Cheerios. I swear to God, Quinn. I got a job that pays decently and I'm saving up all the money until I can get it to you. My mom's knitting a baby blanket and those little boot things and I don't want to tell her that you're giving our daughter away because I don't want to see her heartbroken again." She could see the tears edging his eyes, the waver in his voice as he thought of his mother. "After what my dad did . . . I haven't seen her this excited in years. She wants you to move in with us. She can't wait to take care of a baby again and I'm having a hard enough time convincing her that it's her granddaughter and not her own daughter."

He sighed, pulling himself together again. "I can't break her heart, and I can't be a deadbeat like my dad. I'm not saying we should date – although I swear to fucking God that I love you, Quinn – I'm not saying you even have to be part of the kid's life. But if you're not going to keep her, at least give her to me instead of up for adoption. And if you need anything – a pen, someone to talk to, a place to stay, whatever – please don't be afraid to ask me. I'll um . . . I'll be here – well not here at Berry's but, you know, at my house - if you ever need me." A tear trickled down his cheek, and the video cut off.

"Awwww," Brittany sang, smiling at the video. "That's so sweet of him."

Sweet? It made Quinn want to cry and scream at the same time. She wanted to hit him and hug him all at once. How could he do this – make her feel guilty for leaving him out? But she was making the right decision, wasn't she? He'd been sexting Santana while they were _babysitting_. How irresponsible could you get? But, a little voice reasoned, maybe he was trying. Sexting instead of sex – it was at least a step in the right direction.

Maybe.

**A/N:** I love a little dose of Brittany's stupidity. So much fun. So, the e-mails are fake, but they might be real. Don't try them. (Quinn's came from the pilot episode – it's the screen name of the first comment on Rachel's "On My Own" video)


	4. Reaching Conclusions

I only own _Glee_ in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

**Three. **_Reaching Conclusions_

"So, um, let's go in." Ms. Pillsbury said, pulling her keys out. Quinn sighed, trying to push the stress of the day off of herself. She had spent all seven hours of the school day avoiding Puck and Finn and practically every other member of Glee. She'd admit it – Puck's video had touched her. It had made her reconsider. The problem was that she was still in the process of reconsidering. She had no idea what she wanted and she didn't think it was fair to talk to him without having a definite answer.

They stepped out of the car, walking up the long driveway to the large house. Quinn surveyed the building as they waited for their knock to be answered. It was a large, renovated house. The outside bricks were dark tan, the house plain with a well worn look. On the lawn were a couple of children's toys, scattered and abandoned.

A harassed looking woman opened the door, leading them though a sparsely decorated living room to a small office.

"Hello, I'm Ms. Louise," she greeted, sounding tired as she fell heavily into her seat.

"This is Quinn Fabray," the counselor offered, taking her seat, "and I'm Ms. Pillsbury, her counselor at McKinley High School."

"It's nice to meet both of you," Ms. Louise said, smilingly fakely as she pulled out a folder, handing it to Quinn. "So, I hear you're interested in a room here?" she asked.

"Um, yeah." Quinn replied, not sure what else to say. She didn't want to be forced into this decision, and the woman seemed to be very eager to make her feel welcome.

"You should know that we place a strong emphasis on education here at The Feldman House," the woman told her, pointing to a page in Quinn's open folder. "While you're here we would require you to continue either at school or to take some form of job training classes or a GED course. We also have a deal with a local business so that you can earn some money for yourself and the baby during your stay."

Quinn flipped through the sheets, her eyes scanning the paragraphs as Ms. Louise went on and on about plans and costs and goals. This didn't sound like freedom, this sounded like a mix of summer camp and prison. Everything was planned – there were quiet hours (with the exception of crying babies, of course), a curfew, a chore and shower chart, and a daily schedule.

"Would you like a tour?" Ms. Louise asked, pulling Quinn back to reality. She nodded, letting Ms. Pillsubry help her to her feet before they left the office. She led them back through the living room into the small foyer. On her second sweep through the room Quinn noticed that the furniture was old and well worn, everything in the room was at least a decade old except for some of the scattered baby toys.

The dining room was the same, with some mismatched extra chairs pulled up to the oversized table. Along one wall was a line of high chairs, not quite up her standard of clean. As they passed, Quinn noticed her counselor cringing. Ms. Pillsbury hated messes, but she rarely let it show. The fact that she was reacting noticeably was confirmation that it was, actually, dirty.

"And this is the kitchen," Ms. Louise announced as they stepped into the cramped room. Two girls were standing at the counter. One, a college-aged red head, was handing a cracker to the toddler that she held on her hip as she laughed at her friend's joke. The other was a small brunette, her hands resting on top of her stomach, which was rounder and larger than Quinn's.

"Hey," the brunette greeted, extending a hand to Quinn. "I'm Jennie, eight months."

At first Quinn is taken aback by the easy reference to the fact that the girl was pregnant. Jennie was easily a year or so younger than her, but she didn't seem ashamed of her situation, where Quinn had only ever known scorn and sympathy as acceptable reactions to teen pregnancy.

"Quinn," she replied, taking her hand briefly, "um . . . five and half months."

"I'm Emma," the other girl offered, shaking Quinn's hand, "and this is Melody."

"So you're gonna take Hannah's room, right?" Jennie asked.

"Um. . ." what should she say? Back, before she was pregnant, Quinn would have immediately knocked the girl down a peg simply for making an assumption. But she didn't know how to move in this world of being a teen mom. Her situation had humbled her, made her rethink her gut reactions. She had no idea how to reply now. "I'm thinking about it."

"Thinking about it?" Jennie asked, her face scrunching in confusion. "It's not exactly a choice. If you're here, I mean, it's not like you have any other options."

Quinn blushed. Was she really going to tell this stranger about all the details of her life? Spill her secret second-guessings and confusion over Puck? Luckily, Ms. Louise cut in.

"Everybody has their own situation, Jennifer." She said, her voice calm and authoritative before she turned back to Quinn. "Let's go upstairs." She said, leading us into the hallway. "Don't mind Jennie," she told them in a half-whisper as they climbed the creaking stairs, "she's a little too confident for her own good."

Quinn nodded, wondering if people had described her the same way before all of this had happened.

--

"Are you alright Quinn?" Ms. Pillsbury asked as they drove away twenty minutes later. She had hardly spoken all afternoon.

"Um, yeah." she said, not looking up. In truth, she didn't know how she was doing. After what she had seen of the house, she didn't know what to think. Compared to Puck's offer it seemed like taking two steps back, rather than forward. It was such a regimented lifestyle that the girls weren't actually learning to lead a household, but instead just taking shelter in a substitute home.

Of course, wasn't protecting herself and her daughter from Puck's destructive and detached personality a whole leap in the right direction?

Quinn grew dizzy just trying to think it all out. On one hand, she wouldn't have to rely on Puck, and she could finish her schooling. She could be around others who understood what she was going through and that would understand every emotion she might go through.

On the other hand, she would actually have more freedom in the Puckerman household, and they could probably work out a way for her to finish high school. People might not understand her as much, but sometimes it was good to get away from stresses of home life, and Glee and Cheerios could give her that.

But she also had to consider her daughter. Before it had been easy – Puck wasn't trustworthy. He wasn't gong to be in her life, period. But now she wanted to give him a second chance. Quinn knew that when Puck set his mind on something than he would accomplish it, and he did seem so obsessed with supporting them.

And on top of all of that, there was adoption to consider. Except that Puck had pulled that option right off of the table. She couldn't give up her baby girl without Puck's consent, and he would never say yes. And she wasn't going to leave Puck to raise her alone.

Could she handle going it alone? Would she know what to do when she cried at night, or be able to handle fevers and earaches without panicking? Wouldn't it be better to have someone else by her side, to balance her out?

Puck could be that person. He kept his head better than she did. While Quinn could drown in minor details, he saw the big picture and persevered towards that end.

But he was Jewish, and while Quinn was in no way anti-Semitic, she didn't know if she could just forget her Christian upbringing.

--

When Quinn woke up the next morning, she knew what her answer was.

**A/N:** Sorry. I just realized that I forgot a whole chapter! Happy New Years!


	5. Home

I only own _Glee_ in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

**Four. **_Home._

Quinn sighed, cutting the engine as she looked at her new home. It wasn't the big, impressive mansion that she had spend the first fifteen years of her life in. But it was home now, and she guessed that she would just have to accept it.

She opened the car door and opened the back to get her things, trying to take as much as she could in one trip. First was her backpack, full to bursting with school books and sweatshirts. Then she swung a tote bag under each arm, adding her purse on the right. Finally, she unloaded her rolling duffle, set it on the ground and began to roll it towards the front door of her new home.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Puck called, running up to her. "Give me those!" He insisted, taking her backpack, one of the totebags, and her suitcase from her. "I don't want you straining your back." He told her, leading the way into his home. "Drop it here," he ordered, "I'll take it up."

"Puck, I can do it –" she defended, feeling guilty that he was doing this for her.

"You shouldn't though. I've been reading all those books," he announced with pride, "and they all say that your back is under too much stress to carry much weight. So let me do this for you, okay?"

She sighed, stepping back to let him take the rest of her things and bring them upstairs.

"So," he said as they stood at the top of the landing. "We're gonna turn the guestroom into the baby's nursery, and add a bed in my room or something for you. But for now, you're in the guest room, okay?" she nodded, glad that she wasn't sharing a room with Puck. According to Finn, he snored.

Puck led her to the farthest room, opening the door to reveal a small room full of old, forgotten furniture. He placed her things atop the bed before turning to talk to her again.

"So, um, you can unpack your shit or do whatever you want, I guess." He looked awkward, uncomfortable even. It shocked Quinn to see him so off guard, not sure of what to do. "I mean, this is your home now, so do whatever you'd normally do." He went to leave, turning in the doorway before he left. "I'm, um, be in the kitchen if you need anything. And my room's the last one of the right."

"Thanks, Puck." She said shyly as he turned, heading downstairs. For a moment she stared at her bags. She didn't really feel like unpacking. Not that there was really much to unpack. Her parents hadn't left her with much.

She decided to do homework, pulling out her history book and some looseleaf to take notes on. Quinn looked around the room for a moment – there was no desk. At her old home she had had a grand desk with pretty carvings and an impressive spinning chair. Writing at a desk was such a habit for her that she didn't feel comfortable doing it on her bed. Besides, that would involve trying to lean against the wall and bring her legs as close to her chest as possible to balance her notebook on. Her stomach was too big for that, so she went downstairs, hoping to work at the kitchen table.

"Hey," Puck said easily, looking up from his cooking. She nodded at him, taking a seat at the table and opening her book. She tried to focus on her reading, really she did, but it was hard knowing that he was probably watching her. Once she'd read the same passage four times and gotten none of it she gave up, turning in her chair to watch Puck.

He was overlooking his cooking with concern, adding spices every so often.

"Do you make dinner every night?" she asked.

"Most of the time," he answered easily, as if it were no big deal. "Mom works late a lot, and we can't afford to order in or eat out that often, so if I didn't make food we'd starve." His voice was calm, even joking, but Quinn could hear the seriousness behind them.

"Can I help?" she asked, knowing that she wouldn't be able to focus on her homework and wanting to be useful somehow. He looked ready to tell her no, so she added quickly, "I'm not a piece of glass, Puck."

He grinned, "you can cut veggies, I guess. Not much trouble that you can get into there."

She followed his instructions on where to find the vegetables, knife, and cutting board. Watching her stand up from the squatting position she'd gotten into to grab the carrots, he winced. Her movements were slow and careful, a heavy sigh or "oof" following each bend.

A few minutes after she'd set to work he heard the dull, mechanical sound of the garage door opening and closing before his mom entered, wrapped in a heavy winter jacket and carrying a couple of heavy-looking shopping bags. She dropped them on the counter with a sigh, pulling off her coat and hat and placing them on a chair before turning to her son and, for lack of a better word, his baby mama.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Quinn." She said, holding out a hand to the teen. Quinn looked at it for a moment. This would define her entire existence in the Puckerman house hold – first impressions were key, or at least that was what her mom had always taught her. Handshaking seemed oddly formal when they were so connected – after all, a fourth of the woman's DNA was swimming in Quinn's stomach as they spoke. So, ignoring the hand, Quinn hugged her. She had meant for the embrace to be brief, without much actually touching. But a moment in Mrs. Puckerman pulled her closer, patting her back before she let go, smiling. Quinn's fear that she had been to forward immediately melted, she knew that she had made a good impression.

"I'm so glad you've decided to stay with us," she said, momentarily squeezing Quinn's shoulder. "It'll be nice to have another woman around the house."

"Thanks for taking me in, Mrs. Puckerman," Quinn replied, blushing.

"It's my pleasure, darling." The older woman promised, "and I want none of this 'Mrs. Puckerman' business. I'm 'Gina', or 'mom' if you're comfortable."

Quinn smiled. Already, she was accepted here.

--

Quinn was afraid of the dark.

That wasn't exactly right. She was afraid of the unknown. In the dark everything was unknown.

Normally she just hugged her teddy and that made it all better (although she'd never admit that to anyone else). But she had left him at Brittany's.

So it was dark, and her teddy was gone, and the baby was kicking, and her bladder seemed to have shrunk a couple of sizes, and she didn't feel comfortable at all.

Quinn sighed, whipping off her covers for the third time that night to use the bathroom.

When she left the bathroom a couple of minutes later she realized that she didn't want to go back to her room. She would just end up tossing and turning for half an hour until she needed to use the bathroom again, and the cycle would keep repeating itself.

Instead, too tired to really think straight, she pushed open the last door on the right.

She navigated the dark room until the was on the edge of the bed, then under the covers. Hesitantly, she pressed her cold body against Puck's warm one, and he jumped.

"Jeez Quinn!" he cried, sitting up. "Are you alright? Is there something wrong with the baby? Is it coming?"

She shook her head. "I was just lonely." She explained. "I can go back to my room, I guess."

Puck started to laugh, really loudly in Quinn's opinion. What if his mother heard? And what the heck was so funny anyways?

"What are you laughing at?" she hissed, sitting up beside him.

"You're lonely and you're the one carrying a whole extra person," he told her through laughs, putting a hand on her stomach as her mood soured. "Jeez she's really kicking up a storm tonight."

"Yeah, which means that I can't get to bed, and I'm really tired because, hello, making an entire person isn't exactly easy, Puck, and I really just want to punch you right now." She told him angrily, crossing her arms.

"Okay,okay, I'm sorry." He admitted. "Is there anything you can do to stop it?"

"No, and I can't go to sleep until _your spawn_ stops using my organs as a punching bag." She informed him.

"Why don't we play a game then?"

They spent almost an hour playing Life (Quinn bashing Puck for not going to college, refusing to get married, and ending up with a carload of kids while she proudly went to college, married, and had twins.) until Quinn could no longer keep her eyes open and the kicking petered out.

Puck helped her into bed, and as she snuggled against his warm body, she couldn't help feeling at peace for the first time in months.

**A/N:** Epilogue coming. With hints at Quick. (although I actually hate Puck, so only hints)


	6. Epilogue

I only own _Glee_ in my dreams.

Becoming We Three.

**Epilogue**

Almost three months later, the night before they were set to return from Spring Break, Quinn woke up to dull back pains that quickly grew into true contractions.

She doubled over in pain, holding on to the post of Puck's bed to steady herself. She forced herself to focus on the stars she could see outside of the window, on the pattern of quilt, on Puck's slow breathing, anything but the pain.

When it finally ended she checked her watch. They were twelve minutes apart and getting more painful every time. It was time to wake up Puck and head over to the hospital.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked accusingly when she woke him, his anger quickly dissipating as pain covered her face.

They arrived ten minutes later only to be told that she wasn't ready for the painkillers yet. Puck spent hours trying to amuse her with board games, only to have them upset every time she jerked to curl around her stomach with the pain of a contraction. Finally, the doctor called for an anesthesiologist.

Seven hours later the doctor was ordering her to "push harder, damn it" and she cried big baby tears, wanting it all to just go away. The pain stretched across her back and pulled her down every time, until the horrible burning pain of the baby finally coming down overtook it, making her scream louder. But through all of the blood and screaming, Puck was there by her side. He encouraged her and let her squeeze all of the blood out of his hand and he cried when the doctor let him catch his daughter (with help, of course) and cut the cord.

By the time their daughter was cleaned and a nurse handed her off to Puck, Quinn was asleep.

She woke a couple of hours later to a darkened room. Dim hallway light fell onto Puck as he cradled Sadie in his arms, telling her all about their friends and future in sweet baby talk.

Watching them, Quinn smiled. She should have never doubted Puck. He was going to be a great father, and a good person to raise her daughter with. As for them, she didn't know what the future held. Right now they were just friends, and that was all she could really handle at the moment. But maybe, someday when their lives were simpler, it wouldn't be so horrible if they dated or even married.

And at that moment, Quinn was sure that she had made the right decision.

**A/N:** And cut. That's it, and there isn't anymore.


End file.
